One Month Later

Crusher frowned as she stepped out of her uniform, tossed it into the cleaning chute, and headed slowly for the shower. It was the end of her first day back on duty, and something had been nagging at her all day. It had taken until now to figure out what it was, and that had happened only after she'd established what it wasn't.

It wasn't, for example, Miles and Keiko O'Brien. As she'd feared, they wouldn't be returning to the Enterprise once the long-term shore leave they had requested was up. Instead, Miles had accepted the next best thing to a planetside posting; he'd be taking over as Chief of Ops on the new station orbiting Bajor, Deep Space Nine. Crusher would miss them, but she wished them well and hoped it was everything they expected.

It wasn't even the fact that the O'Briens weren't the only ones not returning to the ship. Not everyone was able to deal with what had happened; at least three crewmembers had requested planetside postings, and four spouses had informed the captain that they wouldn't set foot on the Enterprise--or any other starship--again. And although that was regrettable, it still wasn't what was bothering the doctor.

Nor was it Deanna Troi or Will Riker, both of whom had, fortunately, returned to the ship. Troi had unexpectedly asked Riker to join her on Betazed after her initial counseling sessions were finished, and he had just as unexpectedly agreed. Or maybe not so unexpectedly, Crusher mused as she tested the water. For all that their relationship defied categorization, at least in her mind, they still had a solid friendship and a long history together. From the messages her friends had sent to Earth, things seemed to be working out. Troi had told Crusher that Riker had arrived shortly before Jean-Luc Picard left to spend the remainder of his leave on Earth. She wouldn't say anything about the captain's participation in Troi's rehabilitation therapy--nor did Crusher expect or want her to--only that he had helped her to work things out, and that she had managed to get past the trauma of being an unwilling participant in a rape. Of both of them being unwilling participants in a rape.

Crusher's frown returned as she stepped into the shower. That was what was bothering her. Jean-Luc Picard.

He was still avoiding her. That hadn't changed, and she realized that she'd expected it to. She'd expected things to return completely to normal, at least between the two of them, once therapy and shore leave were over. But that wasn't how it was working out. Oh, he hadn't been avoiding her in obvious ways, not so a person could put their finger on it. He'd simply been too busy to so much as speak to her in anything other than an official capacity. The few times they did speak, Crusher had the distinct feeling he was embarrassed, if not downright ashamed of something. Now she found herself wondering what might be causing that reaction; the fact that Narve had picked her as his personal "prize"? But Jean-Luc seemed to have no problems dealing with Deanna Troi, from what she could tell, and that had been the more traumatic of the things Picard had been forced to witness his own body doing. All that had been done to the doctor, if she thought about it, was to be back-handed, leered at and chained in a closet.

Crusher couldn't help it; she burst into laughter at the direction in which her thoughts had turned. "I sound like the heroine of an old-fashioned romance novel," she said, blowing her reflection in the mirror a kiss. "Call me Beverly, 'The Captive Doctor'." Still laughing, she dried herself off, her good humor restored as she was finally able to put things in perspective--something her own counselor had told her to expect.

Once her initial amusement faded, her mind returned to the problem of Jean-Luc Picard. Why was he avoiding her? "Beverly, you're just being paranoid," she said to herself as she shrugged into her deep green robe and tossed the still-damp towel in the general direction of the laundry chute. "It's probably nothing more than the fact that he still thinks he failed us, somehow." She poured herself a glass of wine and settled in on her sofa. She'd only been back a day, after all. If he continued to avoid her, she'd confront him. And maybe confront him about a few other things as well..."Music, please," she said aloud, addressing the computer. "A little Vivaldi would be nice--the Four Seasons." Time to relax, Beverly, she chided herself. You shouldn't be worrying about something that may very well turn out to be nothing. Not your first day back after shore leave, anyway.

The door chimed. Crusher jumped a little, but only a little, and answered it. Her frown at being interrupted from her evening of doing nothing disappeared when Jean-Luc Picard hesitantly entered the room.

When he saw how she was dressed, he backed up a step. "I'm sorry, Doctor," he apologized. "I didn't realize--that is, I was not aware that you were preparing for bed. I'll come back some other time." He turned to go.

"I'm not going to bed," Crusher called out to him reassuringly. "I just took a shower and was feeling lazy. Would you like a glass of wine? Some tea, maybe?" So much for confronting him; apparently he was ready to confront her. So much the better.

Picard turned back, fully entering the room, and nodded. "A cup of tea would be lovely." He moved to the replicator.

Crusher tucked her feet up beneath her demurely, sipping her wine and eyeing him over the rim of the glass as he ordered "Earl Grey, hot". He was nervous, she realized, continuing to watch as he took the chair opposite her and sipped his tea. Intriguing.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, while Picard very obviously collected his thoughts. Crusher had never seen him so unnerved before--at least, not since the oh-so-interesting Vash had appeared on board. She debated as to whether or not she should point that out to him, then decided not to. He would probably bolt like a frightened rabbit, she thought with amusement, then composed herself and waited for him to say whatever it was he had come here to say.

When tea could no longer be used as an excuse to avoid conversation, he spoke. "Beverly," he began, then stopped.

"Yes?" she asked when he seemed to require prompting in order to continue.

Picard cleared his throat. "I came here tonight for two reasons: to thank you for everything you did during our recent crisis, and to apologize." He held up a hand at her protesting expression. "Please, allow me to finish." She nodded, but the questioning look remained on her face. "I've put in your name for a commendation for the way you took charge and kept the situation from deteriorating into a complete disaster. I've recommended several other people for them as well; Ensign Ro, Dr. Selar, and Guinan."

Crusher smiled, but it was a serious smile. All traces of frivolity had vanished when Picard began speaking; he was obviously working up to something, and she suddenly had no desire to heckle him. "I know all this, Jean-Luc," she replied, deliberately using his first name. "Surely that isn't what you came here to tell me. What's this about an apology?"

"I want to apologize for avoiding you," was his frank response. Crusher blinked in surprise, not expecting so blunt an admission, but held her comments as he continued, "I've been doing a great deal of thinking lately, especially about the fact that it's my fault you were 'selected' by Narve."

"Your fault?" Crusher placed her wine glass on the table and stared at the captain. "How on earth could it be your fault?"

Picard looked down at his hands, then back up into her eyes. "Because, Beverly," he answered softly, his eyes never leaving hers, "if he hadn't read my true feelings for you, he never would have singled you out to receive his 'attention.'"

Crusher leaned forward in her own seat. "What feelings would those be, Jean-Luc?" she asked in the same quiet tone. My, my, wasn't this an interesting development, some small voice commented in the back of her mind. She ignored it, concentrating on the man sitting before her.

"Must I spell them out?" he asked, then held up a hand. "Don't answer that, it was a foolish question." He stood up and turned toward the door, hands clasped behind his back. "Narve selected you because he knew how much it would pain me to see...someone I cared for abused in such a fashion."

"Someone you cared for?" Crusher repeated questioningly, her mind whirling. "Is that who I am? Someone you care for?"

Picard nodded, still unable to turn and face her. "Someone I only now am realizing how much I care for," he said, his voice tender. "I hadn't intended to say anything to you, but somehow..." His voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Somehow," he continued after a moment, "I couldn't just come back and allow things to remain the way they were." Never mind that the counselor had recommended just such a thing, once she finally ferreted out the root of the captain's residual guilt. "I needed to let you know how I feel, how I've been feeling and denying that I feel." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I wanted to tell you that, no matter how you may feel about me, I love you. And have for quite some time."

The statement hung in the air between them for long seconds, while Crusher absorbed all its implications and examined her own emotions. Then she rose from her seat, walked silently to stand behind him, and put one hand on his shoulder. He turned, seeing her own emotions clearly reflected in her eyes, and hesitantly leaned over to kiss her.

"Just for the record," Crusher whispered after a moment, "I love you too. In case you weren't sure." She hesitated a moment before continuing. "You weren't the only one denying how you felt; I've had...very strong feelings for you almost since I first came aboard the Enterprise. I convinced myself that I couldn't tell you because it would ruin our friendship, that you couldn't possibly return my feelings. I might never have said anything if you hadn't come to me first." She smiled impishly. "Maybe our little encounter with the League of Uxmal Pirates wasn't all bad." She held her breath at her own audacity; how well he took that statement would let her know how well he'd recovered.

"Perhaps," Picard murmured before bending his head and pressing his lips to hers. "I do know this much: I have no intention of allowing you to back away from this relationship, any more than I intend to. I think we've both done enough of that."

"Indeed," was all the reply Crusher made before ordering the lights dimmed and the door locked. She had no intention of being interrupted by anyone else tonight.

Nor, if she had her way, any other night.

Author's Note: Well, there it is, in all it's glory. Shall I post the sequel? It will go a little slower as I have lost the electronic files and will be reentering the durn thing manually. But it's worth it if you all tell me you want to see it! Thanks for reading.